Regular People
by HeroineGauddess
Summary: Cosby Show crossover! Regina teaches Henry a lesson. Mentions of Snowing and Outlaw Queen.


**Author's Notes:** I'm only to presume prices or what have you in a recluse town, especially one from the likes of Storybrooke, are cheap. So if the money talk doesn't exactly coordinate, just go with it. It's really not crucial to the story.

**P.S.** This was heavily inspired by the pilot episode of The Cosby Show and thought it fit well in the world of once (:

**Disclaimer: **Nothing is mine!

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The soft tapping of heels make their way up the stairs, down the hall, and stop short of Henry's bedroom door before nails drum against wood.

"Yo!" the teenager yells from where he lounges reclined on the headboard.

The door creaks open, pushing aside clothes strewn behind it on the floor, only to reveal the wasteyard that is the boy's own private quarters of the Charming's apartment. Which is probably shared with Emma for the time being. Only until Snow and her husband are able to find a bigger place and before their second child arrives.

That not a one has felt the need to enforce any kind of ruling of structure or, at the very least, cleanliness upon him unnerves Regina. She knows her son knows full well this sort of thing wouldn't be tolerated under her roof. But she bites her tongue because what time she gets, she cherishes and wouldn't dare rock the boat.

Besides, the Charming's will learn so enough with their new baby. And if Miss Swan hasn't learned it yet, the blonde certainly is now. Reason being for the call she'd received not thirty minutes ago and prompted the Queen's presence.

Henry's brunette mother inches her way forwards, strategically placing a spiked heel atop bits of hardwood few and far between until she's forced to impale a pile of scrap paper rather than the half-eaten bag of chips, halting at the end of his bed, hands on hips.

"Hard to get good help, isn't it?" It's not really a question, Regina simply can't help herself. Making light of something that would normally ruffle her feathers hopefully tells him that though her visit means business, it's not serious.

To them, serious business usually involves life or death situations and almost always magic.

This at the moment, warrants a different sort of care—parenting. She's only too happy to help.

"Henry," she begins, brushing off crumbs from the sheets before easing herself down on the edge. The teen tosses the comic he'd lowered to his lap upon the sight of her to the side, landing someplace with a muffled slap, and gives his mother his undivided attention.

He knows she won't do anything about the mess, but he's no fool.

"Emma's asked me to come up here," she sighs, face blank though ghosting with amusement. "...and kill you."

Henry cracks a smile at that. His mothers have come a long way.

"Hey," he offers a sympathetic look. "I know."

"You know, what?"

"What you're going to say." He watches her smooth out the wrinkles of her skirt, her OCD coming out—straightening what she can physically fix in a confined space of what she can't.

It's always been about control with her and he tries his best to take away some of that anxiety. And if it takes away some penalties along with it...well, he can believe, can't he?

"It's under _control_," he stretches out the word to perhaps convince even himself.

Her head nods, however she's not buying it. "How do you expect to get into college with grades like that?"

Henry tucks his chin a bit in shame, unable to connect eyes with her any longer. It's subtle, though they've both played this game quite a few instances before and they've long reached the point where nothing can surpass the other.

"You think I wasn't going to find out just because you thought you'd get Emma to sign it instead of me?"

Again, not a question. He goes to defend himself nonetheless.

"No problem. See, I'm not going to college."

"Damn right!" Not with the report card she'd just seen, Regina thinks.

The boy raises his hand in the way he's seen the Queen do, "I am going to get through high school. And then...get a job like regular people."

That infamous singular brow arches, signaling him to go on. "Regular people?"

"Yeah, you know, working a boat like Killian or take over Gold's shop. Something like that!"

It takes a good minute or two of silence for his mother's mind to wrap around the idea. By the wheels Henry can see turning as she examines him over, he guesses in search of the point, the boy senses all the while what she is actually doing is dissecting every piece of bullshit he just fed her. Possibly wondering, too, where his brain is at.

"What you're saying is...your mother and I shouldn't care if you get D's...because...you don't need good grades to be...regular people."

Maybe she gets it after all, he thinks, and bobs his head, "_Right_!"

"...okay," Regina turns away, simply put she can't look at him anymore, and stands, casting a wayward glance around the room. When her gaze lands on his desk where an opened Monopoly game rests, among other displaced objects, a smirk tugs at the corners of her mouth. "Suppose you graduate from high school."

"Lets just say you slid by," she continues, fingering the varicolored money, "You've got to find a job. What kind of salary do you expect uh, for a regular person?"

Intrigued, the teen sits up and slowly scoots his way to the spot she'd just occupied. "Uh...two hundred and fifty dollars a week."

A half-assed assumption, her smirk brightens, perfect.

"Two hundred and fifty dollars a week?"

"Yeah,"

"Done." Plucking cash from the cardboard box with one hand, she tugs at the computer chair with the opposite and as it rolls out, albeit caught on thin sleeves and shoe laces, she folds a leg underneath her and takes a seat, making sure to face her son head on. "I'm going to give you three hundred dollars a week. Twelve hundred dollars a month."

She doles it out to him in big bills, deliberately counting it and carefully sure.

"Great, I'll take it!" he marvels, diving head first in the prospect of this future reality.

"Yes, you will. And I will take three hundred and fifty dollars for taxes."

"Whoa!" he whines, features awestruck and offensive, but allows her to take exactly that from his hands.

"Oh yes. Autocracy or not, the government comes for the regular people first."

Alright, he pouts, if it's going to be like that.

"How much does that leave you with?"

Henry recalculates his rations, displaying the cash as if holding a deck of cards. "Eight hundred, fifty dollars."

"Wonderful," she smiles genuinely, if not a hint of mischief. "Now, you've got to have an apartment because you are not living here."

"Why not?"

"You're an adult now, Henry." she throws her arms out, gesturing at him. "You'll want your own place."

He reluctantly nods in agreement.

"So, an apartment in Storybrooke will run you, at least," she shrugs, springing a vague number on the top of her head. "Four hundred dollars a month."

"I'll rent a room at Granny's." He snatches two hundred dollars back, flashing his best inherited shit-eating grin.

Regina lazily struggles to repress a laugh because, despite the fact that she didn't give birth to him and the loose concept he's failing to grasp (but a lesson he can only learn the hard way, anyhow), some things blood can't pass down.

"You'll still need a car," grabbing a hundred dollar bill.

One word—"_Motorbike_," and steals it back.

Her lips form a thin line of discontent, "You're wearing a helmet." leaving no room for argument and plucks fifty bucks from his fingers.

The boy's shoulders slouch, yet awaits for the next charge.

"Figure a hundred a month for clothes and shoes," To her surprise as she lays her hand out for payment, Henry pushes another into her palm.

"Figure two hundred, I want to look good."

Regina actually snorts, though she can relate, thus letting it slide. "Fine, what's that leave you with?"

"Two hundred dollars!" he announces proudly, smugly. "So, no problem."

"There is a problem," his brunette mother leans forward, blinking dumbly, to accentuate her next enlightenment. "You haven't eaten yet!"

If she didn't see it was her son, she'd swear she was talking to her other two boys at home. The former Evil Queen snips one of the lasting bills away.

He appears to think this over before seizing it back, claiming, "I can get by on bologna and cereal."

"And so," he starts again after a break, "I've got everything I need, plus two hundred dollars left for the month."

Gloating. He has the gall to gloat. When there is one more thing he hasn't put into account and oh how she's going to enjoy it.

The dilemma still remained—Henry was going to better those grades if he knew what was good for him.

"You plan to have a girlfriend?"

"For sure!"

That's all she needs to hear in order to apprehend the rest of the paper money and leave him with nothing but the lingering reflection of lot in life.

The teen sits there, slack-jawed, eyes glued at his empty hands even when she leans over him to press a kiss to his temple before turning for the door.

Having eavesdropped on the entire conversation, Emma's laugh rings out from where she's slanted against the door frame and tugs her hands from her jeans, pulling the pocket linings out with them.

"Regular people, kid."

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**A/N: **Thanks for reading and please review!


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